The Switch
by bearbone
Summary: In 1981 Harry Potter was abandoned outside of a London orphanage. In 1989 a tragic accident left Seamus Finnigan orphaned in muggle London. Armed with Harry's fame and Seamus's magical knowledge, the boys come up with a harmless yet devious plan to get back at the world that left them behind.
1. Prologue

**Prologue  
**

November 3, 1981

Vernon Dursley parked around the corner and swiftly approached the building, basket in hand. It was late at night, or rather early morning, and there weren't many people out in this part of London. He had done his research. Located in one of the nicer neighborhoods, McAllister's Orphanage was praised for its superior childcare and was a frequent recipient of large-scale donations and fundraisers. The boy would do well here. Petunia may have claimed not to care what happened to her nephew, but the fact remained that he was her sister's son. Even if his family was unable to care for the boy, Vernon could still do right by him. The boy deserved a good foundation, a place to grow up away from all that nonsense that his parents were involved in. He would be safe at McAllister's and well cared for. Yes, Vernon told himself, the boy will do well here.

Vernon softly deposited the basket on the doorstep, giving the sleeping child inside one last long look. "Good luck," he whispered softly. He rang the bell, and quickly disappeared around the corner. By the time the door was opened he was out of sight, and for the second night in a row Harry Potter was left alone on a doorstep, waiting to be discovered.

* * *

Marianne was jolted awake by the doorbell. She glanced over at her alarm clock. 1:37 am. She frowned, before sighing and getting up out of bed. She quickly donned her slippers and dressing gown before heading down the stairs. "Whoever it is better have a good reason for showing up at this hour…" She grumbled to herself, rubbing the lingering sleep from her eyes.

Marianne opened the door to find- no one. She looked around and then down, and gasped. There, bundled up in a basket, was a baby. He couldn't be much more than a year old, from what she could see of him. And with a nasty jagged cut on his forehead that looked to be quite recent. Marianne quickly gathered the child and brought him indoors. She shook her head disdainfully. Leaving a baby on a doorstep in early November. Some people had no sense at all! She set the basket on the kitchen counter, looking down at the sleeping boy with a frown. Then she noticed a piece of paper tucked tight into the corner of the basket. Carefully, as not to wake the child, Marianne extracted the paper and unfolded it. There, scrawled by a hasty hand, were three simple lines.

Harry James Potter

Born July 31, 1980

No living family

Marianne gave a sorrowful sigh and looked down at the boy- Harry, she told herself- with a new brand of sadness. Fifteen months old and alone in the world. Well, not for long. "Looks like you'll be staying with us, little guy," She whispered with a soft smile. She shook her head. "Well, come on. Let's get you upstairs. There's a spare crib you can use tonight, and I'll call child services in the morning." She carried a still sleeping Harry upstairs, setting him down only to expertly set up a crib in the nursery. She laid him down and whispered, "Goodnight, Harry James," before returning to her own room. As she crawled into bed she glanced at her alarm clock once more. 1:54 am. Well, she thought as she drifted back to sleep, a lot could change in seventeen minutes.

Down the hall, Harry Potter slept peacefully, unaware of just how much had changed that morning, and the drastic effect if would have on the future of an entire world.

* * *

November 16, 1981

Arabella Figg walked up Wisteria Walk, muttering to herself about enigmatic headmasters and obscure tasks. It had been three days since she had moved to Little Whinging at the request of one Albus Dumbledore and, quite frankly, she still didn't understand why she was here. She thought back to that day, less than two weeks ago, when Dumbledore had summoned her to meet with him and requested an unusual favor.

 _As she made her way through the halls of Hogwarts, Arabella looked around, absorbing every detail. The castle never ceased to amaze her, and though she still felt the faint sting of longing for the life that had been stolen from her, she had long ago made peace with her status as a squib, and was able to appreciate the castle for all its wonders. She finally arrived at the entrance to the headmaster's office, smiling to herself as the gargoyle jumped aside. Arabella ambled up the stairs, idly wondering what Dumbledore could possibly need her for._

 _The meeting began quite normally, with lemon drops and polite conversation. Dumbledore inquired about her cats, and Arabella told him a few anecdotes about the mischievous Mr. Paws and how shy little Tufty was finally coming out of his shell. Eventually, their conversation took a natural turn to the end of the war and little Harry Potter._

 _"Incredible!" She exclaimed. "To think, the darkest wizard of our time, defeated by an infant."_

 _"Ah, yes. Young Harry. Which brings us to the reason I asked you here today." Dumbledore suddenly became much more solemn. "As you may have guessed, this is not strictly a social call. I have a very serious task for you, one I dearly hope you will accept." He spoke carefully, peering at Arabella over his half moon spectacles._

 _Arabella started. "But Dumbledore… The war is over. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone. Surely it can't be that serious…" She trailed off at Dumbledore's unchanged expression._

 _"What I am about to tell you is highly confidential." He began. "Were you aware that Lily Potter had a muggle sister?" Arabella shook her head slowly, unsure where this was going._

 _Dumbledore nodded to himself. "That is unsurprising. Her existence is neither a secret, nor a widely known fact." He paused, then, "Mrs. Petunia Dursley resides with her family in a part of Surrey known as Little Whinging. It is a muggle community, of course, which is why I have selected you for this task."_

 _"I don't understand," Arabella began._

 _"I need you to go to Little Whinging." He spoke slowly. "I have placed an… Important asset," Dumbledore gave her a meaningful look, "in Mrs. Dursley's care. While I have very strong wards up protecting her family and this… asset… I will need someone I can trust there to monitor them." Dumbledore eyed her probingly and Arabella nodded carefully in acknowledgement._

 _"This will be a long-term mission." He spoke candidly, for once. "Mrs. Dursley is the last living relative of Harry Potter. I do not for one moment believe that Voldemort," Arabella flinched, "is gone for good. When he returns, there is no doubt that he will go after young Harry and anyone close to him, and muggles will make an easy target."_

 _"Alright. So you want me to… Move to Little Whinging? And watch over the Dursleys and this mysterious asset?" Dumbledore nodded. Arabella let out a huff. "But Dumbledore, surely I am not the best fit for this job. I am a squib, as you are well aware. I can hardly protect them if something does happen!"_

 _Dumbledore gave her a small smile. "Your status as a squib is what makes you the perfect person for this job. I need someone who can blend in with the muggles. In the event that Voldemort," Arabella shuddered, "does return, I will, of course, increase security." He assured her. "What I need right now is for you to watch over the family, make sure they are well, and let me know at once if you notice anything strange or unusual. Is that something you can do?"_

 _Arabella took her time replying. This was not a decision to be made lightly. Although a period of peace had just begun, there was no doubt that danger still lurked. Why, just look at what had happened to poor Frank and Alice. She shuddered. No, this definitely was not a decision to make lightly. Particularly since she had a strong suspicion what this so-called asset was that Dumbledore had hidden with Harry Potter's family. Honestly, an asset! If Arabella did this, she would need to uproot her life and move to a whole different area as well. And her poor cats… Would they be in danger? She shook her head. Of course not. You-Know-Who had far more urgent targets than a squib's cats. And that's if he's even still out there. Arabella sighed. This was her chance though. As a squib, there wasn't much she had to offer to the wizarding world, her parents' world. She had always longed for a chance, one chance, to do something meaningful and impact the magical world. With this task, she could finally be a part of the community she grew up in, and fight back (albeit passively) against the man who had done his best to tear it apart._

 _That alone made her decision. "I'll do it," she gave a determined nod. "I'll move to Little Whinging and watch over the Dursleys."_

 _A hint of tension that she hadn't realized was there abruptly left Dumbledore's figure. "Excellent!" He gave a bright smile to cover his relief. "Now, I believe there is a house available on Wisteria Walk, not far at all from the Dursley residence."_

 _"I will need a week or two to get everything in order," Arabella began, "my cats are not very fond of travel."_

 _"Of course, my dear. Take your time. I just ask that upon arriving, you introduce yourself to your new neighbors and write to let me know that all is well." Arabella nodded. She could do that._

 _"After that," Dumbledore continued, "You need not write unless you notice anything suspicious or concerning. I will check in with you for an update every once in a while." He paused, "Arabella, discretion is of the utmost importance. The Dursleys are not to know that you are a part of the magical community. I urge you to avoid using names or specifics in our letters. Owl post is not infallible, and it will be much safer to write about 'the neighbors' versus using specifics names."_

 _Arabella nodded. "Of course. I will keep an eye on my new neighbors and write to you if I notice anything odd. You will occasionally write to check up on me and I will reply with any neighborhood news." She summarized._

 _Dumbledore smiled. "Excellent, my dear. I am forever in your debt."_

 _Arabella huffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Dumbledore. We all do our part. Now if that is all, it seems I must prepare for a move."_

 _"Of course, I shall hear from you soon."_

 _Arabella nodded and took her leave._

At the time, Arabella thought she knew what this mysterious asset of Dumbledore's was, but she had clearly been mistaken. She had just finished tea with an extremely ordinary Petunia Dursley, and aside from an unnatural cleanliness, her home and family were exceptionally unremarkable. Arabella had been certain Dumbledore's hidden asset was Harry Potter himself. But she must have misunderstood his hints and let her imagination get carried away. There was no indication of a little wizard boy in the house, and Petunia made no mention of her nephew. Perhaps Dumbledore had entrusted Petunia with an artifact or book of some sort. One he needed kept away from witches and wizards, for one reason or another. That had to be it; there was no other explanation.

And honestly, now that she thought about it, it really was quite ridiculous to think that Harry Potter would be here. The savior of the wizarding world raised by muggles? Preposterous. Harry Potter had undoubtedly been whisked away under the protection of a powerful wizard family until the time at which he would enter Hogwarts.

Arabella sighed once more as she entered her new home. Scooping Mr. Tibbles up off the floor, she sat down to compose her first letter to Dumbledore, informing him that all was well in Little Whinging.


	2. You're a Wizard, Harry

**Chapter One: You're a Wizard, Harry**

December 1989

Seamus stared numbly out the car window. Even after the funeral he still couldn't believe his dad was gone. And now he was on his way to an orphanage of all places. Fate could be cruel.

Things had been rough since they lost his mum two years earlier. Dragon Pox, the healers told them. It had all happened so fast. One week she was fine and the next she was in a coffin. At age seven Seamus lost his mother.

His dad had been crushed. Then, to make matters worse, there was the fight. Mum's brother Ronan had been furious. He said Dad should have recognized the signs and gotten her to a healer earlier. Of course Dad was a muggle and had no idea what the symptoms for Dragon Pox were. He said as much, but that had just made Uncle Ronan angrier. He had never liked Seamus's dad, said he wasn't good enough for his baby sister, and now here was the proof. He shouted a lot. He said his sister should've never married a useless muggle. That it was her husband's fault she was dead, and his stupidity was bound to get Seamus killed too. Dad took it as well as could be expected. He was hurt, Uncle Ronan's words compounding the guilt he'd already felt over his wife's death, but he knew Ronan was grieving, so he let him vent. Then he went too far.

When Uncle Ronan threatened to take Seamus away, Dad went ballistic. There was a whole lot of yelling, some breaking glass, and even some tears. It ended when, in a deadly voice, Dad told Uncle Ronan that Seamus was _his_ son and forbid Ronan and his family from going anywhere near him. Afterwards, his dad had explained to a tearful Seamus that sometimes when a person loses someone they love, they don't know how to handle it and they lash out at the people around them. He told the seven-year-old quite firmly that Uncle Ronan was not a bad person; he just needed some time to cope with his sister's death, and then everything would go back to normal. Seamus had nodded, but inside he wasn't so sure.

That had been over two years ago, and Seamus had seen neither hide nor hair of his mother's family since. Not long after his mum died, Seamus and his dad left Ireland and moved to London. His dad wanted him to stay connected to his wizarding heritage. He'd been to Diagon Alley with his wife enough times to know how to get there, and made a conscious effort to take Seamus there at least every other week to keep him up to date on what was happening in the wizarding world. Although they lived in a muggle neighborhood and his dad worked a muggle job, the two of them spent the evening reading books they'd borrowed from the wizarding library and indulging in chocolate frogs. Together, they slowly began to recover from the loss of their wife and mother. So, naturally, fate took the opportunity to throw them another curveball.

 _Seamus looked at the clock for the third time that minute. 6:08. Something was wrong. Dad was supposed to be home from work half an hour ago. He always called if he was going to be late, even if it was just a few minutes. The nine-year-old paced frantically, glancing back at the clock. 6:09. He'd already called Dad's office and his secretary said he'd left at the normal time. He should've been home by 5:35 at the latest. Something was horribly, horribly wrong._

 _By the time the policeman showed up at quarter to seven, Seamus was in a full panic. He heard the words the man was saying, but he couldn't understand them. Car accident. Dad. Gone. Seamus stared unseeing at the officer._

 _The policeman took Seamus to the station and left him in an empty room. When he came back he had an older lady with him. She wore a green suit and a stern expression, which immediately softened when she saw Seamus._

 _"Seamus," the officer spoke slowly, "this is Ms. Leighman. She works for Child Services and she's going to ask you some questions." He nodded to her and stepped out of the room._

 _"Hello Seamus," Ms. Leighman smiled softly at him. Seamus just stared back at her, empty. "We're trying to find someone to take care of you. Can you tell me if you have any family nearby?"_

 _There was a long pause, in which it looked like Seamus might not reply, then, "Uncle Ronan," he whispered, "but he lives in Ireland with Auntie Shea and cousin Fergus."_

 _Ms. Leighman's smile faltered slightly, then quickly returned. "And does your dad keep your uncle's phone number in your house somewhere? Maybe on the fridge or in a notebook?"_

 _Seamus blinked and shook his head, snapping out of his stupor. "No," he frowned. "He hasn't talked to us since mum died." Seamus doubted Uncle Ronan even knew what a phone was, and he could hardly have the lady send him an owl. Besides, he wasn't sure he even wanted to see his uncle after what had happened at his mum's funeral._

 _Ms. Leighman gave a resigned sigh. "Ok Seamus, I'm going to have you stay in a group home with some other kids until I find your uncle. Does that sound ok?"_

 _Seamus nodded. "And what if," he cleared his throat, "what if you can't find him? Then where will I go?"_

 _Ms. Leighman paused and considered it. "Well," she began, "I suppose we would have to find somewhere more permanent. If I'm not mistaken McAllister's has an opening, or there's always foster care… " She trailed off._

 _"McAllister's," Seamus repeated. "That's an orphanage, isn't it?"_

 _Ms. Leighman nodded. "But Seamus, I don't want you to worry about that. I'm sure I'll find your uncle in no time," she assured him._

 _Seamus nodded, but inside he knew better. They wouldn't find him. Uncle Ronan was a wizard; the muggles couldn't find him unless he wanted them to. And he didn't even know about Dad._

 _"Ok," he said quietly. Then a bit louder, "Ok."_

Seamus was jolted from his musings when the car stopped in front of a tall, gray building with an imposing set of stairs. Here it was, McAllister's Orphanage. As he had predicted, Ms. Leighman had failed to find Uncle Ronan, and Seamus was now staring at his new home. _Until Hogwarts_ , he reminded himself. _Only a year and a half._ He could handle a year and a half. He could be strong for his mum and dad. Ms. Leighman opened the car door, and they grabbed his suitcases, walked up the large stone steps, and rang the bell.

* * *

The doorbell rang.

"He's here! Harry James, the new boy's here!" The seven-year-old Alexa danced on her toes. "Oh, what do you think he's like? I hope he wants to play outside! He better not be boring like Connie. She never wants to do _anything_." Alexa shot a disdainful look across the playroom at a blonde girl who was staring blankly out the window.

The nine-year-old Harry Potter rolled his eyes from where he lay on the couch and gave his hyper friend a small grin. She was like this every time someone new came.

"Well if you're still running around like a crazy person when you meet him, he'll probably be too scared to play with you!" He teased, his green eyes bright with mischief.

Alexa scowled. "I'm not running around like a crazy person…" She mumbled mutinously, but made an effort to stand still.

Harry's grin faded and he sat up, suddenly serious. "Remember Lexy, his Dad just died. He'll probably be sad. He might not want to play right now."

"I know, I know." Alexa pouted, twirling a strand of long brown hair around her finger. "I'm just glad we'll have someone else around. Jack and Harry Patrick only talk to each other, Connie just sits at the window all day, and the others are only babies."

Harry shrugged in acknowledgement. "Well, I'll find out what he's like for you in a minute. Marianne wants me to help him unpack. When we're done I can introduce you." Alexa squealed in delight, causing Harry to pause and narrow his eyes. "You stay away from the sugar until then." He commanded haughtily, the laughter in his eyes belying his stern tone.

Alexa beamed at him. "Deal!" She cried, and promptly bounced off to bother Connie.

Harry shook his head and looked back at the stairs. He could hear Marianne's voice drifting up, probably talking to one of the Child Services people. He gulped, suddenly nervous. Although he was just as excited as Alexa to have someone else his age around, Harry didn't like it whenever a new kid first came. If a kid was coming to the orphanage, it meant their parents had either died or didn't want them. The new kids were always sad, and he never knew what to say to them.

Harry didn't know how to talk to the kids who were missing their parents because he'd never had parents to miss. He couldn't remember his own parents, didn't even know their names in fact. According to Marianne, he'd been left in a basket on the steps of McAllister's when he was fifteen months old, the only explanation in the form of a note stating his name, birthday, and that he had no living family. Harry still kept that note tucked away in his room. He'd spent many long hours examining it, but he'd yet to uncover any hidden clues to his origin. Indeed, the only hint he had of his past was the thin lightning-shaped scar he bore on his forehead. He traced the scar and sighed, turning his thoughts back to the new kid. Hopefully this one wouldn't be a wreck like Connie had been. All she'd done her first week was cry her eyes out. When she'd finally run out of tears she switched to staring blankly in the distance, and she'd been like that ever since. That was three years ago.

Light laughter drifted up the stairs, shaking Harry from his sullen thoughts. He stood up. It was time to go meet the new kid. Seamus, he thought his name was. Something funny like that. Harry self-consciously flattened his messy bangs down over his lightning bolt scar and slowly descended the stairs.

He followed the sound of voices past two large suitcases in the entryway and around the corner into the sitting room. There he found Marianne sitting on the couch across from a boy his age and, as he'd guessed, a strict-looking lady from Child Services. Harry turned his attention back to the other boy.

The boy's brown hair was cut short. As the adults conversed around him, his pale blue eyes roved the room, lost in thought. They slowly reached Harry and came to a stop. Harry gave him a small smile and a tentative wave. Although there was a familiar aura of sadness around the boy, Harry was relieved to note the absence of tears. Just then Marianne looked up.

"Harry James, perfect timing!" She smiled and waved him in. "This here is Seamus. He's nine, like you," she turned to the new boy. "Seamus, this is Harry James. The two of you will be living in the same dormitory. And of course you remember Ms. Leighman from Child Services," she added to Harry, gesturing at the other woman.

Harry nodded politely at the serious Ms. Leighman, then turned to greet the new boy, forcing a bright smile onto his face. "Hi Seamus. Welcome to McAllister's! You'll like it here. We're going to have school together after the holidays," he added.

Marianne smiled warmly at Harry. "That's right," she turned to Seamus, "You'll be attending St. Jerome's, just up the road."

Seamus nodded and smiled slightly at Harry. "Hi, Harry James. Miss Marianne says there are other boys in our dorm too?" Harry nodded.

"Jack and Harry Patrick," he informed Seamus, "They're older though, and brothers, so they mostly stick together. But they're still nice!" he hastily appended.

Marianne gave Seamus a small smile. "We have two Harrys here," she informed him with a wink towards Harry, "It's quite the popular name, so we use their middle names to tell them apart."

"Harry James," she turned her attention back to him, "Why don't you help Seamus unpack and introduce him to the other kids? Ms. Leighman and I have some paperwork to fill out." Harry nodded, and waved Seamus up, eager to get away from the adults. The new boy seemed ok. He'd even smiled, which was very rare for new arrivals.

"Come on, let's get your stuff." Seamus glanced back at Ms. Leighman, and at her nod followed Harry out of the room.

The boys chatted amicably as they dragged Seamus's suitcases up the stairs. Marianne had warned Harry not to ask Seamus about his dad, so he stuck with safer topics.

"Most of the kids call me Harry James," he explained, "but you can just call me Harry if you want," he said earnestly. "I'll answer to both. Make sure you use our middle names when Harry Patrick's here though or we'll get confused." Seamus smiled at the nervous boy.

"Ok Harry." He was rewarded with a bright grin.

"Our room is on the third floor," Harry continued, encouraged, "The first floor has the kitchen, dining room, and sitting room. We're only supposed to use the sitting room when we have guests," he cautioned, "Marianne's worried we'll mess it up otherwise. The second floor has the girls' dorm and the playroom, which is where the telly and all our toys are kept." Harry paused, pulling the stubborn suitcase around the corner of the second floor landing. He saw Alexa peeking out her dormitory door and winked at her. She giggled and quickly disappeared back into her room.

"The third floor has the boys' dorm and Sean's room. Sean is Marianne's brother; they run the whole orphanage, just the two of them. Marianne's the one who watches us mostly and Sean fixes stuff and keeps track of money. You won't see him around much except at night." He made a face. "The fourth floor has the nursery and Marianne's room. Luckily, the babies aren't right above us, or we'd never get any sleep. And there's a bathroom on each floor," he added. Seamus nodded, taking it all in.

"How many kids live here?" He asked the other boy.

"You're the eleventh, but lots of them come and go. It's us older kids who are here for good." The fact that no one wants to adopt a nine-year-old was left unsaid.

The boys reached the third floor, and paused to take a break.

"Ok," Seamus began tallying with his fingers; "So there's the two of us and two other boys in our dorm…" Harry nodded.

"Jack and Harry Patrick. Harry Patrick is twelve and Jack is fourteen." Seamus nodded and urged him to go on.

"Then in the girls' dorm there's Connie, Alexa, and Anna. Connie's eleven; she's really quiet and doesn't like to play with the rest of us. Alexa's fun though!" he quickly assured. "We go to the park a lot and play outside. But she's seven," Harry warned, "So she's kind of hyper." Seamus's smile grew.

"She sounds like fun." Harry nodded eagerly.

"She's the greatest," he declared. "And McAllister's is right in the middle of town, so there's loads to do. It's a rich neighborhood too, so the playground is really cool!" His smile fell. "Some of the kids don't want to play with us because we're orphans," Seamus frowned. "But Marianne says that it's their loss, and we don't want to play with kids like that anyway," Harry added, though he looked unsure when he said it. He peeked at Seamus cautiously through his fringe.

"Marianne's right." Seamus declared confidently. "Anyone who doesn't like you just because you're an orphan is dumb. So what if you don't have parents. Stupid tossers." Harry giggled.

"Don't let Marianne hear you say that!" he crooned, but his smile was back in full force.

He waved Seamus across the hall and through a door labeled _Boys' Dormitory_. The room was huge, with four large wardrobes and four sets of bunk beds, for a sum of eight beds total.

"We basically each have our own set of bunks. There are hardly ever more than four of us, and when there are it's just for a week or two while someone's passing through. That's mine in front of us. Yours is the one next to mine on the left." He pointed to the side and the boys dragged Seamus's suitcases in that direction. "The ones to the right are Jack's and Harry Patrick's." Seamus nodded and opened his suitcase, gesturing for Harry to go ahead and do the same.

Seamus turned the conversation back to their fellow orphans. "So those two are brothers," he pointed at the empty beds across the room, "Connie's quiet, and Alexa's fun. Who else is there?" Harry smiled.

"Well Anna's four. She just moved out of the nursery and she likes to play with Ryan, who's three. He'll move to our dorm next year if he doesn't get adopted. The other three are Samantha, Tim, and Rose. They're all really little- less than a year old- so we have to help watch them sometimes. But they'll be gone by next year. Everyone wants babies." He said it in a factual way that spoke of his experience. Seamus snorted.

"I can't imagine why. All they do is eat, sleep, and cry. You'd think they'd want a kid who would actually _do_ something."

Harry shot Seamus a wry grin. "Yeah, well, I guess not," he shrugged, feigning indifference. Seamus tilted his head.

"How long have you lived here then?" he asked with a frown. Harry sighed glumly.

"Since I was one," he admitted, "People want babies, but… Well…" He pushed back his bangs, revealing his scar. Seamus's eyes shot to Harry's forehead and widened. "They don't want the damaged ones." Harry finished quietly and looked away.

Seamus was silent for a minute, and Harry cautiously peeked back up at him. He stood open mouthed, staring at Harry's forehead. Harry fidgeted. This is why he kept his bangs long. He hated when people stared.

"I've had it as long as I can remember." He strained to break the silence. "Marianne said it looked fresh when I got here, maybe a day or two old. The note that was left with me said I had no living family, so she reckons I might've got it when my parents died," he babbled, "in some sort of accident or-" Seamus cut him off.

"You're Harry Potter!" he exclaimed with a dopey grin. Harry started, and then frowned in confusion.

"How do you know my name?" he asked the still-grinning boy.

"Everyone knows your name! You're Harry Potter!" Seamus repeated, as if his name alone explained everything. Harry's frown deepened. Maybe everyone at the orphanage knew his name, but that was about it. Even at school he didn't garner much attention, and he was always called Harry James, not Harry Potter.

"Ok…" said Harry. Seamus noticed his expression, and his grin faded.

"You _are_ Harry Potter, aren't you? The son of James and Lily Potter? Defeater of You-Know-Who?" His eyes were pleading.

"Erm. Who?" At Seamus's crestfallen look, Harry clarified. "I mean my name is Harry Potter. I don't know what my parents' names were, but my middle name's James, so that could be my dad's!" he added hopefully. "I don't think I've ever defeated anyone though…" Harry frowned thoughtfully.

Seamus narrowed his eyes in concentration. "You said you've been here since you were one. Who brought you here?" he demanded. Harry rubbed his neck, embarrassed.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Whoever it was rang the bell and then left before Marianne saw them." Seamus grimaced at that.

"And that would have been in… 1981? November maybe?" He looked at Harry expectantly. Harry nodded slowly. This was getting strange.

"November third…" he confirmed, uncertain. Seamus's grin returned just as quickly as it had left. He glanced back at Harry's scar, and then nodded to himself, determined.

"Do you want to know how I knew that Harry?" Harry nodded nervously. "Ok, but first I need to ask you something." His voice lowered to a whisper. "Have you ever made anything strange happen? Maybe when you were mad or sad? Something you couldn't explain?"

Harry's eyes widened comically. He carefully glanced at the door before whispering back.

"One time when Anna was a baby Marianne asked me to watch her while she was on the phone. I wasn't supposed to lift her up, but she was crying. I was trying to calm her down and… _I dropped her_. But she didn't fall! She just sort of _floated_ until I lifted her back into her crib. I didn't tell Marianne," he added guiltily. Then he perked up.

"Another time this mean older boy was making fun of my hair 'cause it's always so messy. He said it was a pity I had no parents or they could brush it for me…" Both boys scowled, then Harry smirked. "The next day all of _his_ hair was _gone_. He was really mad. He told everyone I did it, but I hadn't gone near him and no one knew how I could've done it…" He trailed off. Seamus looked pleased.

"I know how," he declared, leaning toward the other boy conspiratorially. "You're a wizard, Harry." Harry stood there, stunned. _A what?_ "Don't worry!" Seamus assured him. "So am I. My mum had magic too, and so did your parents."

"But… How do you know that? You're too young to have known my parents… Did your mum know them?" Harry wondered aloud. Seamus shook his head.

"You see Harry, in the magical world you're famous."

"Famous?" Harry looked doubtful. Seamus nodded eagerly.

"Well, there was this dark wizard, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and he was killing all sorts of magical folk, left and right." Harry's eyes widened and Seamus quickly continued. "Then, on the night of Halloween 1981, he went to your house. He killed both your parents," he winced and shot Harry an apologetic look, "but when he tried to kill you he couldn't! His spell backfired and then… He died!" Harry was staring at Seamus wide-eyed. "You're a hero in the magical world. Everyone knows your name and story," Seamus frowned suddenly. "Everyone except you, I guess."

Harry asked the question that was bugging him most. "But if I'm some famous wizard, then why am I here? I mean, I like McAllister's and all, but…" he trailed off.

"I don't know." Seamus frowned. "All the books say you're in hiding or off training somewhere. I guess they're wrong." He looked frustrated with his lack of knowledge.

"Books?" Harry squeaked. "There are books about me?" Seamus nodded, then jumped up. He quickly dug through his suitcase, before pulling out a book triumphantly. He handed it over to an anxious Harry.

" _Modern Magical History_ ," Harry read.

"It was my mum's." Seamus explained. "You can read it, just be careful with it," he begged. Harry nodded in understanding and began flipping through the book. "You'll be toward the end," Seamus began, "At the end of You-Know-Who's reign of terror." Harry suddenly gasped.

"What? Did you find it?" Seamus leaned over his shoulder.

"These pictures are moving!" Harry exclaimed in awe. "That's so cool! How are they moving?" he asked. Seamus smiled at him.

"Magic."

* * *

Later that night as Harry lay in bed, he thought about everything he'd learned that day. _Magic_. He couldn't believe it. Except… He could. It explained so much. A part of him had always know he was different… Now he knew why. He had magic. And Seamus did too.

After they'd flipped through the pages of _Modern Magical History_ , the boys had quickly finished unpacking before taking Seamus around the orphanage and introducing him to all the kids. Lexy had been bouncing off the walls as usual, but Seamus took it in stride and they ended up getting along famously.

When the boys escaped back to their dorm that evening, Seamus once more began filling Harry's head with stories of the magical world. He talked about goblins and dragons and an alley in London that only magical people could find. Harry had wanted to go there at once, but Seamus reminded him that he was famous in the magical world and people would recognize him when they saw his scar. That had to be the strangest part of all of this. Not the evil wizards or moving pictures. No, the thought that he, Harry, was famous. The boys had talked it over and decided to wait a month or so before going to the magical marketplace called Diagon Alley. It'd be less crowded after the holidays, and they'd have time to find a way to hide his scar.

Harry smiled as he drifted off to sleep that night, wishing more than anything that he wouldn't wake up in he morning and find out this was all a dream.

* * *

Another boy lay awake in their dormitory that night. This day hadn't turned out at all like Seamus thought it would. When he'd heard he was going to an orphanage, he'd pictured dark rooms full of gloomy kids who were forced to do chores all day and eat gruel. Instead he'd found Harry bloody Potter! He couldn't believe it. And then to find out that Harry knew nothing about their world! Not who he was or where he came from… This Harry Potter wasn't the strong, fearless hero that Seamus had read about in books, he was the shy little orphan who'd made him feel welcome in his new home. He wasn't an all-powerful sorcerer, but a normal nine-year-old just like Seamus.

There was one thing that had bothered Seamus more than anything else that day. How _had_ Harry ended up at McAllister's? He was certain that the ministry wouldn't just dump the Boy-Who-Lived at an orphanage three days after he killed You-Know-Who. Especially a muggle orphanage. So what had gone wrong? There were plenty of wizarding families who would have killed to raise Harry, so why was he with muggles, alone and unwanted? Either way, Seamus was sure that no one knew Harry was there. There was no way they would've knowingly let that happen. So that begged the question- should he tell someone?


	3. Diagon Alley

**Chapter Two: Diagon Alley**

As they had discussed, the boys waited until after Christmas to visit Diagon Alley. The time until then passed in a flurry. The holiday season was in full swing and it was a difficult time for Seamus, who was mourning his dad. To keep him from dreary thoughts, the boys threw themselves into Harry's magical education. Harry found that there was much he had to learn about the wizarding world, and Seamus readily filled in the blanks. The two of them had pushed together their dormitory beds and built a fort on the bottom bunks, where they could frequently be found up late into the night reading from _Modern Magical History_ and whispering excitedly about potions, centaurs, and other magical phenomena.

The boys also had a decision to make. They needed to figure out if they should tell anyone where Harry was living. Seamus informed Harry that it was his choice, but urged him to think it through carefully, because once they told someone they couldn't undo it. He had hinted to Harry about the ministry's prejudice against muggles before, and he finally broached the subject outright as they read about wizarding law one evening. Seamus revealed his doubts that the ministry would have knowingly allowed Harry to grow up at a muggle orphanage. No matter how nice it was at McAllister's, there was no magical protection. Not to mention that if the public ever got wind of their savior living in an orphanage they would be outraged. After a bit of prodding, Seamus had admitted to Harry that not all wizards liked or approved of muggles. Even many of the people who had not supported You-Know-Who still looked down on muggles, and most witches and wizards thought them to be somewhat silly and dim-witted. Harry found that rather funny; he'd thought the same thing about wizards when he'd compared their archaic practices to those of modern muggle society.

The boys speculated on how Harry could have ended up at McAllister's, but they couldn't reach a clear solution. Harry showed Seamus the note that was left with him as a baby, and Seamus declared that it was definitely written using muggle instruments, so whoever wrote it knew enough about muggles to know that a note on parchment would seem strange. They just couldn't see how the ministry could have misplaced Harry. They had _magic_ , for pity's sake. Had they entrusted someone with Harry's care, only for that person to get cold feet and abandon him? Was the ministry aware of Harry's disappearance, but keeping it from the public? Could they be searching for him right now? Or had they _intended_ for the Boy-Who-Lived to grow up ignorant of their world? That final thought left both boys with goose bumps. Either way, Harry had opted not to tell anyone just yet. He decided that if the ministry couldn't keep track of him the first time, they couldn't be trusted to do any better now. He could end up somewhere a whole lot worse than where he was now. Besides, Harry liked McAllister's. Marianne was nice, and he had other kids to play with. He wasn't ready to lose that.

With that settled, their attention turned to the matter of Harry's disguise for their much-anticipated trip to Diagon Alley. They decided that Harry would go by his middle name in public, since he was used to replying to Harry James anyway. But while no one would be expecting him there, they needed to come up with a way to guarantee that Harry would not be spotted. Namely, they needed to cover his scar. The solution came wrapped under the tree on Christmas.

* * *

Christmas morning dawned relatively uneventful. Seamus woke up in a somber mood, and even a squealing Alexa couldn't shake him out of it. As was the norm, the orphans spent the morning opening gifts. Their gifts were never anything big, usually just clothing and a few new books or games, but to orphans who never had much to call their own it was a very special time of year. Harry beamed when Alexa presented him with a snow globe she'd made in school, and cheerfully passed her a framed picture of the two of them, taken the previous summer. Seamus had mentioned to Harry that he and his dad had often spent their evenings reading spell books and eating chocolate, so Harry had nervously handed him some nice muggle chocolates and a note explaining that while they probably weren't as good as chocolate frogs, this way Seamus could have a piece of his dad with him for the holiday. A stoic Seamus had read the note and thanked Harry, before bolting upstairs. He spent the rest of the day on his own, and at Marianne's urging the kids let him be.

Harry's final gift that morning was from Marianne; a light grey beanie she had knitted for him. It was simple and practical for the cold winter days, but Harry had an ulterior use in mind.

"It's perfect!" he exclaimed that night to a somewhat recovered Seamus. "I can just wear my hat to the Alley! It completely covers my hair and forehead. Someone would have to know my face really well to recognize me, and it's not like anyone has seen me since I was a baby."

"It won't hide those soulful green eyes though," Seamus teased with a wink. Harry scowled. Seamus had been taking the mickey ever since the boys had read Harry's description in _Modern Magical History_. The book had illustrated Harry as a relatively average looking baby, the only exception being his 'striking green eyes that seem to look into your very soul.' Eyes that he apparently shared with his mother. That had been news to Harry, who had never seen a picture of his parents.

"No one's going to see green eyes and automatically assume I'm Harry Potter. There've got to be loads of wizards with green eyes." Harry pouted stubbornly, though he was secretly glad that Seamus had cheered up since that morning.

"Not as many as you might think," cautioned Seamus. At Harry's dark look he quickly conceded. "You're right though. It's a pretty big leap to make. The beanie should work well enough in the winter, but we'll have to think of something new when it gets warm out. A knit hat in summertime would definitely draw the kind of attention we're trying to avoid." Harry nodded in acquiescence.

* * *

After the holiday, the boys started searching for an opportunity to escape to Diagon Alley. They decided it would be best to go on a weekend the first time, since school had started up again and they wanted to have a whole day to explore the Alley. The problem was that the boys were almost always with Alexa, and while they enjoyed spending time with her, Seamus had warned Harry that they could not tell her about the magical world. To do so would be breaking some serious laws, and the consequences could be frightening for her. Harry hated keeping it from her, especially knowing how excited Alexa would be to learn about magic, but he agreed to stay silent when Seamus told him about the _obliviators_. Apparently there was a group of people at the ministry whose sole job was to erase muggles' memories of magic. Harry shuddered. As neat as magic was, there were definitely some things that he did not like about the wizarding world. The obliviators had sounded like something out of a nightmare, and he vowed that he would never let them anywhere near Lexy.

The boys' opportunity to escape finally arose when Alexa was invited to a classmate's birthday party at the end of January. She would be gone all day, so they wouldn't have to worry about leaving her behind. There was a basketball tournament going on at the local community center that day, and the boys told Marianne that they planned to spend the whole day there, watching. Harry felt guilty lying to Marianne, but reminded himself that this was the only way to learn about his parents and his world.

That morning, they watched Marianne drive away with matching grins, and took off as soon as she was out of sight. The community center was just a block away from the boys' school, and from there, Seamus informed Harry, it was a mere four and a half blocks to the Leaky Cauldron. They arrived in no time, and by silent agreement stopped a few doors down before entering the pub.

"Remember," Seamus began, with a nervous look towards the pub, "if anyone asks, your name is James McAllister, not Harry Potter."

"Right," replied Harry. He nervously pulled his beanie down over his forehead and bit his lip. "How do I look?" Seamus inspected his face for a few seconds before breaking into a grin.

"Like a regular boy!" he declared, slapping Harry on the back. "Let's go." Harry felt himself relax at the other boy's buoyancy, and returned the grin with a small smile of his own.

"Ok. I'm ready." He nodded, and the boys walked the few steps and entered the pub.

The Leaky Cauldron was dingy and dimly lit. Although it was a Saturday, it was only half past nine so the pub was fairly empty. The barkeep was a short, bald man who looked to be quite old. Seamus whispered to Harry that his name was Tom. Tom looked up when the boys walked in, and set down the glass he'd been polishing.

"What can I do for you boys?" he asked in a gruff voice, looking them up and down suspiciously. Seamus approached the counter with practiced ease while Harry hung back shyly.

"We're headed to the Alley," he explained. "Do you think you could open the gateway for us? We'd really appreciate it, you see Dad dropped us off and we haven't got wands yet to open it ourselves." Tom frowned.

"You two look a bit young to be wandering the Alleys on your own." he commented. "How come your dad isn't with you?" Seamus faltered at the impact of Tom's question. Harry jumped in, thinking quickly.

"He's working today," he explained. Seamus nodded along and Tom turned his attention to Harry. "And we're almost ten." That was a stretch, but Harry straightened up, adopting an aura of false pride, and plowed on. "Dad says we're finally old enough to go to the library on our own- he even said we could stop at the stores on our way!" He didn't have to fake his excitement at that.

Tom's frown deepened, but he nodded and followed the boys out the back of the pub. He took out his wand and tapped the proper brick. Harry's jaw dropped and his eyes widened in awe as the wall slowly separated, revealing a cobblestoned alley littered with shops. He felt a kick from Seamus and quickly snapped out of it. He masked his astonishment just in time for Tom to turn back around.

"Now you boys be safe," he growled. "I don't want to be hearing any stories of mischief from the shopkeepers. And you stay well clear of Knockturn or I'll drag you back here by the ear." he warned. The boys nodded solemnly and quickly thanked him, before darting off into the Alley.

Their first stop of the day was Gringotts Bank, where they would exchange their pounds for wizard money. Seamus had explained galleons, sickles, and knuts to Harry, and each of the boys had brought a good portion of their pocket money with them to the Alley. While Seamus had an allowance from the money his father had left him, Harry's money had all been earned through hard work. He'd spent many long hours slaving away in the neighborhood, doing anything from gardening to pet sitting just to earn a few pounds. Harry tightened his fist around the money in his pocket. It wouldn't be easy to part with, but he hadn't spent much since the previous summer and he supposed he deserved to splurge.

As they walked toward Gringotts, Seamus regaled Harry with lighthearted stories of his trips to the wizarding bank. His (rather embellished) depiction of a time he almost fell from the cart on the way to his mum's vault left Harry in stitches.

"That sounds so cool," he proclaimed wistfully as Seamus described the roller coaster twisting through a maze of vaults under London, "I wish I had a vault down there." Seamus frowned.

"But you do," he insisted. "According to the books your parents were well-off when they died. I think your grandpa was an inventor or something." He shrugged. "I don't know exactly, but when he died he left a ton of money to your dad, so it'll be all yours now." Harry shook his head.

"No, that's not right," he explained. "If I'd inherited something, even if it were small, McAllister's would've been given an allowance for clothes and things. That's how it always goes with the kids whose parents died. Just like you get from your dad and Connie gets from her parents. I don't have that." Seamus's expression darkened.

"I hadn't thought of that. Your guardians should've been given an allowance until you were old enough to take it over. I guess that's another place the ministry messed up with you." He shook his head disdainfully.

"Well, it doesn't matter now. You have to be eleven and enrolled in a magical school before you can access your vault. Until then, you'll just have to make due." Seamus gave his frowning friend an apologetic smile. "If it makes you feel better, after your eleventh birthday, you'll probably never have to work again." he added sheepishly.

But it didn't make Harry feel better. He knew he should be happy with the news of his inheritance; it was every orphan's dream to inherit a fortune, second only to finding parents. But it seemed that this was just one more way that the wizarding world had done him wrong. For a world that claimed he was their hero, they'd done a rotten job looking out for him. First he'd ended up dumped at an orphanage, and now he'd just found out that he'd been wearing secondhand clothes and living off others' charity his whole life when he had an entire fortune that no one bothered to tell him about. Harry was reassured with his choice not to tell the ministry where he was. He wasn't sure he liked the way they ran things here.

The boys finally arrived at Gringotts, a white marble building on the north end of the alley. Seamus had warned Harry that the bank was run by goblins, but that didn't fully sink in until they reached the front entrance. The doors were guarded by a creature that could only be described as menacing. He had long fingers and pointed ears, and when Harry stared for just a second too long, the goblin turned and gave him a vicious smile, revealing sharp, pointed teeth. Seamus quickly urged Harry in.

"I know they're scary," he warned in a whisper, "but try not to stare. The goblins are mean, but all they really care about is money. Just act normal and don't try to cheat them and you'll be fine." Harry nodded, nervously eying the nearest goblin teller, before Seamus led him to the currency exchange counter on the far right. To Harry's relief, Seamus handled the exchange while Harry hung back.

When Harry and Seamus left Gringotts, their pockets were heavy with gold and silver. As they walked down the steps, Harry got his first chance to really look at the Alley. What he saw delighted him. Dozens of people strolled up and down the cobbled road, many of which wore long robes and pointed hats. Harry saw one man enter through the Leaky Cauldron wearing a set of bright pink pajamas with cupcakes on them. And the stores were like something out of a dream. They had displays full of wizardly items such as broomsticks, cauldrons, and wands. Harry saw one store advertising a bunch of sweets he'd never heard of, and from another he heard the hoots of what sounded like a hundred owls! His head swiveled from left to right, trying to take it all in.

Seamus caught Harry's expression and grinned at the shorter boy. "Where to first?" he asked. "The library is at the other end, so I figure we'll do our shopping first and then head there. I, for one, would kill for a chocolate frog right now." Harry nodded gamely and the boys headed to the nearest sweet shop.

While Seamus streamlined to the chocolate frog display, Harry wandered the store, eying the different candies carefully before making his selections. He only had a limited supply of galleons and he'd prefer not to spend them all in one place. He ended up with a nice assortment of cauldron cakes, fizzing whizbees, ice mice, sugar quills, and of course, chocolate frogs. Seamus himself was grinning like a madman, holding so many chocolate frogs that Harry suspected he'd cleared the whole shelf.

After the sweet shop, the boys headed to Gambol and Japes, the wizarding joke shop. Although they didn't buy any prank products since they wouldn't be able to use them at the orphanage, Harry did pick up a nice set of gobstones.

The boys spent the most time by far in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry had been fascinated by the sport ever since Seamus told him about it, and was very eager to learn as much as he could. He gazed longingly at the broom displays, knowing he wouldn't get a chance to fly until he went to Hogwarts. Seamus had to talk Harry out of buying on his own copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , reminding him that that was what the library was for, and they could hardly keep a bunch of wizarding books at the orphanage. They were stretching it just by having _Modern Magical History_ in their dorm, where the other boys could easily find it should they get the urge to look.

The boys were almost to the library entrance when something caught Seamus's eye and he stopped. Harry followed his line of sight. _Madam Marvel's Magical Makeup_. His brow knitted.

"Seamus?" he asked the other boy, confused. A slow smile broke out on Seamus's face and he spun towards Harry.

"That's it!" he said with a triumphant grin.

"What?" asked Harry. He looked back at the shop, not getting it.

"Your scar!" Seamus cried, then glanced around worriedly before lowering his voice to a whisper. "We can use makeup to cover your scar!" He grinned at Harry. Harry wrinkled his nose.

" _Makeup?_ " he asked with a grimace. He was less than thrilled with the prospect of wearing makeup. "Wouldn't that come off easily though? I'd spend the whole day worried it had faded…" Seamus shook his head.

"You're thinking muggle makeup. This is _magic_ makeup. That stuff won't come off unless you use the right potion. Trust me, my mom lost hers once after a dinner party and she was stuck with this awful blue eye shadow for days before she could order the remover." Harry raised his eyebrows at that. "And," Seamus continued, "it'll completely blend with your skin. Not like that shoddy stuff the muggles sell." He started pulling Harry toward Madam Marvel's.

"But…" Harry was grasping for straws, "won't it be weird for a couple nine-year-old boys to buy makeup? We're supposed to be trying not to draw attention." Seamus paused at that, frowning. Then his face lit up.

"We'll tell her our sister has awful spots and she sent us to get it for her." He nodded to himself, satisfied. Harry sighed. He clearly wasn't going to win this battle.

"Ok, ok," he grumbled sulkily, following the other boy into the makeup shop.

Ten minutes later the boys emerged from the shop toting a bright pink bag. Madam Marvel was a sweet older lady, who'd dedicated her career to inventing and improving beauty potions. She had explained the usefulness of beauty potions versus spells to the boys. Glamours, she informed them, could be detected and canceled easily enough, but beauty potions could withstand cancellation spells and didn't show up on a standard detection scan. When Seamus had spun his tale about their fake sister's acne problem, Madam Marvel had lapped it right up, exclaiming over "that poor child" commending them for being such great brothers. Seamus had basked in the praise, but Harry had felt uncomfortable more than anything else. They were, after all, lying to the nice lady.

To Harry's dismay, Madam Marvel only sold the concealer he needed in large quantities. It made sense, since her usual clients used her product daily on their entire face, versus once in a while on a small portion of their forehead, but Harry had groaned inwardly at the price. Seamus had offered to help pay, but Harry had declined. It was his scar they were hiding after all, not Seamus's. It had cost nearly all the money Harry had left, but he now had enough makeup to last him for years, not that he would need it that long.

The boys finally made it to the library, a tall, tan brick building with an imposing set of cherry wood doors. The interior looked much the same as any regular muggle library, and Harry was a little put out by that.

"What were you expecting? Flying books and magic carpets?" Seamus teased.

"Something like that," Harry admitted sheepishly.

While neither Harry nor Seamus had a particularly strong love for books, they'd both agreed that they needed to do some research in order for Harry to fully understand the wizarding world. Harry still didn't know a lot about his family and his fame, as demonstrated by his lack of awareness of his fortune. He was desperate to learn more about his parents, and equally curious to read about himself and discover what the wizarding world was saying about him.

With that in mind, the boys turned their attention toward the news archives. The archives were located in a back room on the ground floor of the library. The room was dark and filled with rows and rows of tall shelves stacked with boxes. Harry groaned at the sight. They didn't want to ask a librarian for help since it would draw attention to the fact that they were researching Harry Potter, but all the boxes were unlabeled and appeared to be in no particular order. It would take months to get through them all.

Seamus saw Harry's crushed expression and smirked. He waved him over to a small table in the corner of the room. The table contained a blank scroll, though there was no ink or quill in sight. Harry looked at Seamus questioningly.

Seamus smiled smugly and placed his hand on the scroll. "Harry Potter," he spoke very clearly. Harry watched as the scroll slowly filled with electric blue writing.

 _The Daily Prophet, 2 August 1980_

 _The Daily Prophet, 1 November 1981_

 _Witch Weekly, 1 November 1981_

 _The Daily Prophet, 2 November 1981_

 _The Quibbler, 2 November 1981_

 _The Daily Prophet, 3 November 1981_

The list went on and on, and Harry noticed that as each new line was added to the list, different boxes would glow in the same bright blue color as the ink on the scroll. The list finally ended with _The Daily Prophet, 31 October 1989_ and the boys looked at each other.

"The books here may not fly," Seamus explained, "but magic does have its ways of helping us out." They shared a grin and quickly got to work searching through the glowing blue boxes. Harry found that when he opened a box, the article he needed would be lit up as well, and in no time the boys had a large stack of papers in front of them. They started at the beginning.

" _The Daily Prophet,_ 2 August 1980," Seamus flipped through the paper until he found the article in question. "It's a birth announcement," he said. "'James and Lily Potter proudly announce the birth of their son, Harry James Potter, at 11:38 pm on 31 July, 1980 at St. Mungo's Hospital. Godmother is Marlene McKinnon and godfather is Sirius Black.' Well that doesn't tell us much." He set the paper down. Harry frowned.

"I have godparents? Then why don't I live with them?" he asked the other boy. Seamus shrugged.

"We can look them up later if you'd like," he offered. "But they might not even be alive. The war was bad back then, and your parents were right in the middle of it, so…"

"So their friends probably were too." Harry finished with a resigned nod. "Ok, we'll check later. For now let's work on these."

The boys spent the next hour reading every article about Harry that they could find. Most of them were quite ridiculous.

"This one says you're off training an army of wrackspurts in Siberia!" Seamus exclaimed, waving a magazine titled _The Quibbler_ in front of Harry's face. Harry scrunched his nose.

"What's a wrackspurt?" he asked the other boy. Seamus shrugged.

"Beats me. But it was written when you were _four_!" The boys dissolved into fits of giggles.

There was, however, some useful information hidden within the papers. Harry learned that before that fateful Halloween night, he and his parents had lived in a village called Godric's Hollow. His parents were supposedly buried in the cemetery there, and their house had been memorialized in their honor.

Harry also learned what had happened to his godparents. Apparently, a few days after Voldemort was defeated Sirius Black chased down another wizard and killed him in cold blood, along with the twelve muggles who'd gotten between them. He had been locked up in Azkaban prison ever since, and Harry wondered what his parents had been thinking when they made such a violent man his godfather. After reading about Sirius Black, Harry decided to look up his godmother. He learned that Marlene McKinnon had been killed with the rest of her family in a suspected Death Eater attack in mid-1981. Harry lamented the fact that he'd never get to meet her.

The boys discovered that most of the more recent articles about Harry were rubbish, speculating about where he could be and how far his magical training had progressed. They were both relieved and amused to see that no one came even remotely near the truth. The closest guess, surprisingly enough, came from another _Quibbler_ article. That article, published in early 1988, said that Harry was living with a family of wizards in Diagon Alley. It claimed that he often visited the wizarding districts and he hadn't been spotted simply because no one was looking for him. Naturally, that article had been dismissed as hogwash, and the general consensus seemed to be that Harry was off training in secret until the time at which he would attend Hogwarts. Harry snorted at that. If he'd had such advanced training then why in the world would he need to go to Hogwarts? Wizards made no sense sometimes.

When the boys had exhausted their supply of papers, they moved on to books. Most of the books that mentioned Harry only talked about his defeat of Voldemort, along with some theories toward the end about where he was now. It was in one of those books, titled _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , that Harry found his first real treasure. He was reading the typical story, and had just gotten to the part where Voldemort showed up at his house, when he turned the page and froze. There, in all its moving glory, was a photo of a young couple and their baby. The man had messy black hair and hazel eyes framed in round glasses. He wore a broad grin and waved up at Harry. The woman was smiling as well. She had long, dark red hair and bright green eyes. _My eyes_ , Harry realized. Sure enough, he looked down at the caption. _James, Lily, and Harry Potter, shortly before the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_. Harry looked back at the picture and greedily drank in the details. His mother was beautiful. He had clearly inherited her eyes, as well as her nose and cheekbones, he thought. But his looks favored his father by far. They shared the same messy hair, poor eyesight (although Harry wore contacts), and general facial structure. They even had the same smile. Harry stared longingly at the picture, slowly tracing his parents' features.

"What's wrong?" Seamus asked. He'd noticed his friend had stopped reading. Harry silently tilted the book so Seamus could see. Seamus looked down with a frown. Then his eyes widened as it slowly dawned on him. "Is this the first time you've seen them?" Harry nodded and the boys fell into a brief silence. Abruptly, Seamus stood.

"Let's go," he told the other boy, who had yet to move his eyes from the picture. Harry looked up in concern.

"But… I haven't finished reading this one," he started, but Seamus shook his head.

"We're going to the bookstore," he said firmly. "Flourish and Blotts will have a copy you can buy of your own." Harry's looked back at the book, crestfallen.

"I haven't any money left," he began, his eyes slowly filling with tears, "I spent it all at Madam Marvel's."

"Then I'll buy it." Seamus stated.

"But…"

"No. I'll buy it. Consider it a late Christmas present." Harry stared at him for a minute, before throwing his arms around the other boy and thanking him profusely. Seamus shook his head.

"Every kid should have a picture of their parents." He said it in a firm voice that brooked no argument.

* * *

That night, the boys sat in the fort in their room. An assortment of books they had borrowed from the Diagon Alley library lay spread across their beds, and Harry had his brand new copy of _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ propped open to his family's picture. Seamus, who was munching away at a chocolate frog, looked over.

"The resemblance really is scary," he commented, gesturing between Harry and the waving image of James Potter. "I mean, now that you've taken that hat off you're practically identical. It's a good thing you wear contacts, with some big round glasses there'd be no mistaking who you were, even with your scar covered." Seamus frowned thoughtfully. "We'll have to do something about that hair." Harry looked up, alarmed.

"I'm not cutting it," he declared immediately. "Marianne tried once… It was awful. I looked like Gollum from _The Lord of the Rings._ " Seamus snickered at the image and Harry pointed to his head. "The hair's staying."

"Ok," Seamus conceded, "but we'll have to do something to make it less… Distinct." he finished tactfully. Harry nodded.

"I know. It just won't stay still though. I'm telling you, it's got a mind of its own. I brush it every morning and ten seconds later it's back like this." He gestured irritably at the wild mop on his head.

"Have you tried gelling it?" Seamus asked. Harry wrinkled his nose. "Not slicked back completely," Seamus assured him, "you don't want to look like a complete ponce. Maybe just a little to help style it and keep it still?" Harry shrugged.

"I guess I could try it," he muttered doubtfully, "I'll have to make some more pocket money first. I'm all wiped out." Seamus nodded.

"You won't need it until it gets warm out anyway. You've got the hat until then." Harry nodded and looked back at his book, absentmindedly sucking on a sugar quill. A few minutes passed, in which Seamus tore into another chocolate frog and began flipping through a copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. Then Harry spoke up.

"Hey Seamus," he began hesitantly.

"Hm?" the other boy replied, glancing up from a passage on hellhounds. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's just…" he gestured down at the book in front of him. " When I first saw this picture I was excited, you know? I'd never seen their picture and I had no idea what they looked like until then. But when you saw it you knew who they were right away. You've seen their pictures before, haven't you?" Seamus nodded. He thought he knew where this was going. To be honest, he'd been waiting for this ever since he'd told Harry about magic.

"I've spent my whole life wondering who I am and where I came from," Harry continued, "and then this afternoon, we went to the library and learned all this stuff about me. It was just _sitting there_ for anyone to read." Harry's frown deepened as he went on. "I never even knew my parents' names, and the rest of the world knows all this stuff about them. You didn't think twice about seeing their picture in that book, it was normal to you. And it's just… It's just _not fair_. It's like a part of me was stolen and given to the public without me even knowing." Harry finished, clearly distressed. Seamus nodded compassionately and put a hand on the other boy's shoulder.

"You're right," he agreed, taking Harry by surprise. "What the wizarding world did to you was horrible. Whether they meant to or not, they abandoned you and left you clueless to who you are. It's like you did your part and saved their world, so after that they couldn't be bothered. It's _not_ fair." Seamus's building anger caught Harry off guard. He'd never seen the easy-going boy so serious. Harry continued, encouraged.

"And then there are all those articles about me. They say I'm off training and learning advanced magic. They all think I've been on some big adventure my whole life. What's going to happen when I go to Hogwarts? Everyone will expect some great and powerful wizard, and if I hadn't met you I wouldn't have even known about magic until I got there. Part of me wants to refuse my letter when it does come just to get back at them, but I really, really want to learn magic. They're going to be so disappointed when it turns out I'm just average, though." Seamus's eyes narrowed and when he spoke his tone was lethal.

"You won't be average, Harry. We'll make sure of that." There was a fire growing in his eyes. "We'll study up and become great wizards. That's how you'll get back at them. The wizards think they can just do whatever they want to people and no one will stop them." Seamus slammed his book closed in frustration. "Well they're wrong. We won't let them." He was breathing deeply and Harry stared, stunned. He tilted his head, his frustration melting to concern.

"Seamus?" he probed gently. Seamus looked at the other boy, suddenly realizing how carried away he'd gotten.

"Sorry," he explained, "They just make me so angry sometimes…" He tried to shrug it off, but was clearly still upset. Harry was trying to figure something out.

"Did they do something?" he asked, "To you?" Seamus shook his head.

"No. They didn't _do_ anything." He looked at the other boy, an obvious debate going on inside him. "Harry… I told you I have an uncle, right?" Harry nodded. "Well, he's my mum's older brother, a wizard," Seamus continued quickly before he could lose his nerve. "When mum died he got into this big fight with my dad, who's a muggle, you know. He threatened to take me from dad." Harry's eyes widened. "When dad objected, Uncle Ronan told him that since I was a wizard, Dad had no rights to me. He said if he wanted to he could take me right then and make my dad forget he'd ever had a son." Harry gasped, horrified. "He didn't," Seamus hastily assured him, "Dad and I left and I haven't seen him since. But Harry… I looked it up later. Uncle Ronan wasn't lying. As my closest magical family, he _could have_ taken me from dad and erased his memory. That's _legal_." He finished, disgusted. Harry stared.

"But that's," he began, "that's crazy! He's your dad! They can't do that!" he exclaimed. Seamus snorted darkly.

"Remember what I told you about the obliviators?" Harry shuddered. He remembered. "The ministry doesn't care about muggles. As far as they're concerned, they're not even people. It's like I said before, they just do whatever they want and no one stops them."

There was a long pause, then, "We'll stop them." Harry declared confidently. "And we'll find a way to get back at them too. Your uncle, the ministry, and anyone else who tries to hurt us. We'll show them that they can't just push us around and make us do whatever they want." Harry looked back down at the dark haired man and green-eyed woman beaming up from the pages of his book. "And they can't take away our families." He finished firmly. Seamus nodded back at the other boy, with a hint of a smile.

"I'm glad I met you, Harry."


	4. The Plan

Over the next few months, the boys made regular trips to Diagon Alley. Every Wednesday morning they told Marianne that they were going to the library after school to study. This, as Seamus liked to remind Harry, was not actually a lie since the boys _did_ go to the library. They just went to the library in Diagon Alley versus the local public library that Marianne assumed they were at. Harry had long since accepted the necessity of lying to Marianne and dutifully followed Seamus's lead. The boys also tried to make a day trip to the Alley at least one Saturday per month, using different excuses for their daylong absences. Luckily, living in the city there was almost always some sort of event going on that they could claim they were attending. Alexa was miffed at the boys for excluding her at first, but she was soon distracted when a new girl her age arrived at the orphanage.

As the weather warmed up, Harry began gelling his hair into a more controlled state for their trips to London. The other orphans found it hilarious and teased him incessantly for his newfound vanity, but Harry held his ground and declared in his snootiest tone that unlike some people he cared about his appearance. That sent Seamus into a fit of giggles, but it shut the others up. If Marianne thought that Harry's change in behavior was odd, she attributed it to the new boy's influence and their growing friendship.

And the boys' friendship was indeed growing. As Seamus's grief faded he had fallen back into his natural cheeky and outgoing persona. He had taken on the role of a protective older brother with Harry, and was determined to help the shyer boy prepare for his return to the magical world. The two of them spent more and more time together, pouring over spell books and soaking up any information they could find. Harry's magical knowledge had grown exponentially since December and even Seamus was coming across an increasing amount of information that he hadn't known about their world. Both boys had been serious in their determination to learn as much as they could before Hogwarts and find a way to stick it to the magical world. They were constantly brainstorming different manners of revenge, but they had yet to come up with a realistic solution.

"You could act really weak," Seamus suggested on an afternoon in late April. It was two weeks after his tenth birthday and the boys were lying in the park, enjoying the early spring weather. "Just do a really bad job at all the spells in class and then say it's because they're not worth your time after all of your advanced training." Harry snorted, twirling a blade of grass around his finger.

"I think that would hurt _me_ more than the magical world. How would I learn the spells if I couldn't practice them?" Seamus thought about it for a minute, and then nodded in acquiescence.

"Well what if you did the opposite then? Master all the spells ahead of time and rub it in their faces." Harry looked doubtful.

"And draw even more attention to myself? Being famous is bad enough. Besides, I don't think I can learn all those spells in the month between getting our wands and going to Hogwarts. Even if we read all the books before then, I won't be ready magically." Seamus sighed, discouraged.

That was true enough. The boys had discovered that the reason children didn't begin learning magic until they were eleven was that their magical cores had not developed enough. Attempting magic at a younger age would very rarely garner any positive results.

"There's got to be something we can do. Some big prank we can pull that no one will expect…" Seamus trailed off wistfully, gazing up at the clouds as if they alone held the answer.

"There will be," Harry said decisively. "It'll come to us. We still have over a year to sort it all out. We'll think of something." His tone of voice brooked no arguments.

The days went on and spring faded into summer. With warmer weather and no school, the boys had many more opportunities to escape from McAllister's and slip away to Diagon Alley. Tom had long ago stopped questioning their visits, and the boys immersed themselves into their studies. They had found sets of beginner books at the library, and begun learning magical theory and wand motions, practicing with ordinary sticks until they could get the real thing.

* * *

It was on a particularly hot afternoon in early August that the boys stopped by Fortescue's Ice Cream to cool off. They had just left the library where they'd been reading up on some first-year spells. One of those spells was the levitation charm, and as they sat at the counter waiting for their ice cream Harry practiced miming the swish and flick motion.

"Heading to Hogwarts next month?" Forescue asked, setting two heaping bowls of ice cream in front of the boys. Harry and Seamus shared a slightly worried look, and Harry spoke up.

"Not until next year," he explained, "we're just getting in a little practice before then."

"Smart." Fortescue nodded approvingly. "You've got your wands then?" Harry's brow wrinkled. A glance at Seamus showed that the other boy shared his confusion.

"No," he began slowly, "we're only ten. We won't get our Hogwarts letters until next year, so we can't get our wands until then." It was Fortescue's turn to look baffled. Then his confusion morphed into a look of understanding.

"Ah. I take it your parents are muggleborns then?" Harry opened his mouth to correct him, but Seamus cut in.

"That's right." The boy confirmed, shooting Harry a warning look. "Or mum is at least, Dad's a muggle." The lie rolled easily off his tongue, and Harry found himself admiring the other boy's skills at deception.

"That explains it. I wondered why you never had your parents with you, but I suppose it's tough for a muggle to come here." He nodded to himself and the boys squirmed guiltily.

"Well," Fortescue lowered his voice and leaned in, "I'll let you two in on a little secret. You can buy your wand anytime after your tenth birthday. The ministry does it that way so kids with especially late birthdays can get their supplies in time for Hogwarts." The boys' eyes widened and Fortescue quickly continued. "Mind you, they probably won't work too well at first since your cores aren't quite ready, but it's good for practicing wand motions," he nodded at Harry, "and for forming a bond with your wand. A wand that's used to you will work a lot better once you actually start doing magic than a brand new one would." he finished. The boys were staring openmouthed and Fortescue grinned at them. Seamus was first to recover.

"But… That's not in any of the books!" he exclaimed. "Not even _Hogwarts, A History_ or all those books about beginners' magic and core development!" Fortescue nodded.

"I'm not surprised. While it's technically allowed, the ministry doesn't advertise it. It's common knowledge among the older families of course, but lots of folks with muggle backgrounds don't realize it," he explained. Both boys frowned indignantly at that. Seamus opened his mouth to argue, but Harry quickly cut in.

"Thank you for the tip, sir." he gave Fortescue a bright smile and turned to Seamus. "We can go get our wands _today_ ," he whispered delightedly. Seamus's frown morphed into a disbelieving smile as he realized the implications of what they'd just learned. Both boys began wolfing down their ice cream, keen to get to Ollivander's as soon as possible. Fortescue gave a low chuckle. With one last wink at the boys, he moved on to the next customers.

Harry and Seamus devoured their ice cream and raced off to Ollivander's. The boys paused outside the shabby-looking shop to catch their breaths. When Harry started toward the door Seamus reached out a hand to stop him. Harry shot the other boy a questioning look.

"I think you should tell him your real name." Harry's eyebrows rose.

"Isn't the point for people _not_ to know who I am?" he asked slowly. "That's why I'm James here. If people know I've been to the Alley they'll start to look for me." Seamus nodded at that.

"True," he began, "but this is for your _wand_. You know he keeps track of them. It'll be more suspicious if an unknown boy buys a wand than if Harry Potter does. It's perfectly normal for you to need a wand, and of course you'd go to the finest wand maker in Britain. Besides, Ollivander's a professional, not to mention a recluse. If you ask him to keep quiet, he will." Seamus tried to look sure of himself, but fell just a little short. Harry nodded slowly, conflicted.

"Ok…" He still sounded reluctant, so Seamus compromised.

"How about this: I'll go first. You can see what he's like and decide if you want to be James or Harry when he gets to you. I'll follow your lead." Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"You just want to get your wand before me," he accused. Seamus grinned.

"Well, yes, there's that too." He admitted cheerfully, slapping the other boy on the back and strolling toward the door. "C'mon!" Harry scowled, but followed him in.

The bell rang as they walked trough the door, and both boys peered around curiously. The shop was narrow and cramped. There was a small counter and a single rickety chair in the corner, but the rest of the shop was filled with shelves upon shelves of wands. The atmosphere was gloomy and mysterious and Harry suddenly felt very uncertain.

"Good afternoon." Both boys jumped as a man stepped out from behind the nearest shelf. He had large, pale eyes. When he looked at Harry it felt distinctly uncomfortable, like he was a specimen under a microscope, waiting to be dissected. Seamus cleared his throat and took a step closer to his friend.

"Good afternoon, sir," he began nervously. "We're here to get our wands." He shifted awkwardly. Ollivander slowly examined them and then nodded.

"And what are your names?" he asked the nervous boy.

"I'm Seamus Finnigan," said Seamus, mustering up some confidence. "Mr. Fortescue said we could get our wands now that we're ten."

"Indeed," Ollivander continued, "Finnigan… I don't recognize that name." Seamus nodded.

"My dad was a muggle, but my mum was a witch. Rory O'Malley," he added at Ollivander's questioning look.

"Ms. O'Malley. Yes, I remember. Nine-and-a-half inches, laurel and unicorn hair. A unique combination, it can be stubborn, but is extremely loyal to the witch or wizard who proves worthy." Ollivander looked thoughtful. "Her brother on the other hand was quite the opposite; he favored a wand of spruce and dragon heartstring. Such wands are powerful, but tough to control and fickle in loyalty. I say he favored, but of course it's the wand that chooses the wizard." Seamus stared.

"How did you know all that?" He wondered, awed and more than a little alarmed.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold." Ollivander said mysteriously and turn his gaze on Harry. Before he could say anything Harry spoke up.

"Seamus can go first. I'll wait." Ollivander examined Harry carefully and then turned back to Seamus.

"Very well. A few measurements to begin with." A measuring tape floated over and began zipping around Seamus, measuring everything from the length of his arm to the space between his eyebrows. Seamus's eyes darted after it, while Harry just stared.

"And which is your wand arm?" Ollivander was all business, plucking wands from shelves and moving them around. Seamus silently lifted his right hand as the tape measure slowed to a stop and disappeared.

"Very well, let's try this one. Cedar and unicorn hair, ten inches." He handed Seamus a box, and Seamus carefully picked up the wand giving it a soft wave. The chair in the corner burst into flames and Ollivander snatched the wand back.

"Perhaps not." He set the wand aside and grabbed another. "Aspen and dragon heartstring, eleven and a quarter inches." Seamus nervously grasped the wand, and Ollivander snatched it back almost immediately.

"No, no, that's not right…" He mumbled to himself, searching the shelves.

They continued on like that for a good five minutes before Seamus found his match. It was a wand of alder, eleven and a half inches, with a phoenix tail feather as its core. Ollivander looked positively thrilled and gazed upon the wand with worshipful eyes.

"An unyielding wood, good for protective spells and nonverbal work. Particularly strong when paired with a phoenix feather." He nodded to Seamus. "I've no doubt it will serve you well." Seamus nodded and thanked the man, clutching his new wand tightly with a small smile on his face. Ollivander turned his attention to Harry.

"Now you, young man. What is your name?" Harry hesitated.

"Harry Potter," he admitted quietly. Ollivander's eyes darted to Harry's forehead and he frowned at the unblemished skin.

"I covered it before we came here," Harry explained, "I don't want to draw attention, so I would really appreciate it if you could keep this trip private." Ollivander snapped out of it.

"Of course. I expected to see you next summer, but I suppose you of all people could use an early start." He stepped closer to Harry, glancing back at his blank forehead before meeting his eyes.

"You have your mother's eyes. I remember her quite well. Ten and a quarter inches, swishy and made of willow. An excellent wand for charm work." Harry shifted, nervous. "Your father favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches and pliable. Powerful and quite adept at transfiguration. I am very curious to see which wand chooses you."

The tape measure suddenly appeared and began taking Harry's measurements. "I'm right handed as well." Harry volunteered, before Ollivander could ask. The strange man gave no signs that he'd heard, but when the tape measure was finished he began pulling wands from shelves.

"Let's start with this one. Beachwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible." Harry waved the wand, but Ollivander took it back almost immediately. The next wand Harry tried was made of maple and when he waved it the window shattered. They continued on like that for what must have been over an hour. As the wands piled higher, Ollivander looked more and more thrilled.

"We've got a tricky customer here." Ollivander shot a knowing glance at Seamus, who had long since sat down and was now eyeing the rising stack of wands, no doubt grateful that he had gone first.

"Never fear. The perfect match is in here somewhere." He assured Harry, climbing high on the shelves to reach the remaining wands. "I wonder…" he pulled a dusty box from a back shelf and slowly descended. "An unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." He handed him the wand to with a look in his eyes that Harry couldn't quite name, equal parts eager and apprehensive.

Harry cautiously took the wand, anticipating another explosion. Instead, he felt a sudden warmth in his fingers that slowly radiated outward to his entire body. He raised it in the air with a soft smile and swished it downward. A rush of red and gold sparks streamed out the end like fireworks, gently illuminating the dusty walls of the shop. Seamus jumped up and cheered while Ollivander clapped gleefully.

"Oh wonderful! Bravo! Very nice. And… curious. Very curious." He became thoughtful again and Seamus frowned. Harry spoke up.

"Why curious, sir?" He looked down at his new wand with a strange protectiveness. Ollivander's pale eyes met Harry's.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold," he repeated his words from earlier, "Every single wand, Mr. Potter. And what's curious is that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in your wand gave another feather- just one." Dread crept into Harry's gut as Ollivander continued gravely. "It's curious that you are destined for this wand when its brother," he paused and glanced back toward Harry's forehead, "its brother gave you that scar." Seamus gasped, but Harry could only stare, clutching his new wand tightly.

"Yew, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Quite curious. It is the wand that chooses the wizard, after all. I think we can expect great things from you Mr. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, true, but great nonetheless."

Harry had gone pale and Seamus stepped up beside him and put a hand on his arm. The boys silently paid for their wands and quickly exited the shop.

Harry was quiet as they slowly made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, and Seamus finally stopped him.

"I know what you're thinking," he announced, "and you're not going to turn evil."

"But…" Harry began.

"No," Seamus interrupted. "It's like he said. The wand chose you. We've read about wands, remember? They can sense the magic in you. You've obviously got a lot of potential and the wand knows it," he spoke firmly.

"But what if… What if I turn out like _him?_ " Harry whispered. Seamus snorted.

"Harry. You're best friends with an eight-year-old girl. In your spare time you garden for the neighbors and cuddle babies at the orphanage." Harry scowled at that. "And you can't stand keeping things from the people you love. Does that sound like a dark lord to you?" Seamus finished.

"I guess not…" Harry murmured. Seamus sighed.

"If anything, the wand could probably sense You-Know-Who's magic from the night he attacked you." Harry looked thoughtful, so Seamus pressed on. "I bet magic like that leaves a mark, and the wand probably senses its brother's magic on you."

Harry looked back at his wand. It hadn't left his hand since he first held it at Ollivander's and if he could hold onto it forever he would. He decided that Seamus was right. It didn't matter. This was _his_ wand, he could feel it. It chose him and it would help him become a powerful wizard. A _good_ wizard. He brightened at that thought and gave Seamus a thankful smile. Seamus returned his smile and they started walking again, heading home after a long, eventful day.

* * *

That evening, the boys escaped to the fort in their dorm, eager to try out their wands. Unfortunately, as Mr. Fortescue had predicted, they were not yet capable of performing any magic. The boys were discouraged at first, but muscled up and focused instead on practicing wand motions and forging a connection with their wands. Every now and then they would spend some time attempting spells, but it was an uphill battle.

It was a stormy night in September when Seamus first managed to light his wand with a dim Lumos. The power had gone out, boosting the boys' resolve to complete the spell. Seamus had been so surprised when his wand lit up that he'd dropped it, sending Harry into peals of laughter. A muted "Shut up!" from across the room had quickly drawn them back to reality. The boys whispered excitedly as Seamus lit his wand over and over again. Much to Harry's dismay, he was unable to light his wand like Seamus. He'd been put out by it at first, until Seamus reminded him of their three and a half month age difference. It made sense that Harry's core wouldn't be as developed. That had made Harry only more determined to succeed, and by the end of October he too had mastered Lumos.

* * *

Halloween fell on a Wednesday that year, and Harry and Seamus were both determined to spend it in the wizarding world. Seamus had not spent Halloween among wizards since his mother passed away when he was seven, and for Harry, of course, Halloween held a particular significance. This would mark the nine-year anniversary of the night his parents had been murdered and Voldemort had been defeated. As the first Halloween that he was aware of his history, Harry had resolved to spend it in his parents' world.

The boys dashed out of the school building as soon as the final bell rang. They practically skipped to Charing Cross Road, stopping briefly at a coffee shop a few doors down from the Leaky Cauldron so Harry could cover his scar. The weather had been chilly that week, so Harry was sporting his grey beanie and Seamus himself wore a plain black hat. The boys had agreed, however, that they should be especially careful since Diagon Alley was bound to be crowded that evening and Harry applied his magical concealer underneath the beanie as a precaution.

The boys entered the alley through the Leaky Cauldron and were immediately struck by the sight. Jack-o-lanterns cackled outside of shops, singing toads lurched between windowsills, and though it wasn't quite dark enough to justify it, thousands of candles floated throughout the alley, completing the festive feel.

The people, too, were getting into the Halloween spirit. Witches and wizards were completely decked out in magical wear; from pointy black hats to dragon hide boots. There were even a few flying around on broomsticks above the shops. Each of the merchants had their own supply of Halloween treats that they handed out to their younger customers.

Harry and Seamus flitted from shop to shop, making obscure purchases and indulging in all sorts of sweets. Seamus had nearly had a fit when one shopkeeper handed him a Harry Potter cookie. Even Harry had to fight back his laughter when Seamus finally calmed down and showed it to him. The cookie, to both their relief and extreme amusement, bore no resemblance to Harry at all. It was a simple round cookie, the majority of which was covered in white frosting. The top third of it had a dark chocolate frosting, clearly meant to be his hair, and the bottom contained a half circle in the same chocolate frosting- his mouth. But it was the middle that completed the picture. Through the center of the cookie was a zigzag of thick red frosting, approximately six times the size of Harry's actual scar. On either side of the scar were two large green orbs that blinked intermittently- the eyes. When the boys finally calmed down, Harry held the cookie next to his face and turned to Seamus.

"What do you think," he asked with a straight face, "are we fooling anyone?" It was a long while before the boys recovered from that.

* * *

Later that evening the festivities were in full swing and people were singing and dancing in the streets. The boys retreated to the Leaky Cauldron, wanting to eat something a bit more substantial than the sweets they'd been devouring all afternoon. The pub was packed with witches and wizards, along with several creatures of more questionable origins. It took a lot of pushing and shoving through hoards of rowdy patrons, but they finally found a table. Seamus immediately noticed that the customer before them had left a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ on the table and quickly snatched it up.

"Their Halloween issues are always the best!" he had to shout to be heard over the noise of the pub, but Harry nodded back and Seamus spread the paper out on the table before them and began paging through it. One an article in particular caught Harry's eye. _The Boy Who Vanished: The Impending Return of Harry Potter_. He nudged Seamus and pointed at the headline. Seamus immediately snapped the paper closed and mouthed "later" to the other boy across the table. Harry nodded, a small frown lingering on his face, and the boys turned to their menus.

When they were done eating, they headed to Flourish and Blotts. The bookstore was by far the least populated shop that evening, and the boys needed some peace and quiet to read the article. They nodded to the shopkeeper and strolled briskly past the few other customers, heading to a less-used corner in the history section and plopping down on the floor. Seamus pulled out the newspaper and opened it back up to the article on Harry. The boys leaned over the paper and began to read.

 ** _The Boy Who Vanished: The Impending Return of Harry Potter_**

 _This Halloween marks the ninth anniversary of the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It has been nine years since young Harry Potter defeated the terrible Dark Lord and brought peace to wizardkind. Tonight is a night when witches, wizards, and magical creatures alike will all come together as one and celebrate. However, there is one question that lingers in the back of our minds as we dance through Diagon Alley and indulge in a scrumptious Halloween feast. Where is Harry Potter now?_

 _As many are aware, shortly after defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry Potter was whisked away from the Potters' former home in Godric's Hollow and brought to what has been dubbed by ministry officials "a safe location." The consensus among journalists and readers alike has always been that Mr. Potter is living in isolation with a powerful guardian, training and gaining control of his undoubtedly strong magic. But that is all about to change. Harry Potter will turn eleven next summer, and this reporter has just confirmed that he will be joining his peers at Hogwarts next fall._

 _In an exclusive interview with our recently elected minister Cornelius Fudge, Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter got the inside scoop._

 _"Ah yes, young Mr. Potter. Highly classified information of course, but I suppose I could give you a crumb," said Minister Fudge from his brand new office, "I was only given access to his location upon my appointment and what I found was quite surprising. I was concerned at first, but I talked it through with Dumbledore and he has convinced me that Mr. Potter's placement is secure. He will, of course, be attending Hogwarts next fall, at which point he will make his debut into wizarding society."_

 _That's right, readers. Harry Potter will be attending Hogwarts. When pressed further, the minister admitted to our Daily Prophet reporter that Albus Dumbledore, the eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, played a large role in Harry Potter's placement. It is a well-known fact that Dumbledore was close with the late James and Lily Potter, and no doubt they entrusted him with the placement of their only son in the event of their deaths. Dumbledore himself was unavailable for comment._

 _The news of Harry Potter's impending return will bring great joy to many in our magical community. There had been some speculation over the years as to whether he would return for schooling. We are all eager to meet Mr. Potter and welcome him home, not to mention learn what he is capable of. There is little doubt that our young hero will be quite ahead of his classmates, perhaps even skip a year or two. In just ten short months the question that has haunted us for nine years will be answered. Harry Potter is going to Hogwarts._

"Well," Seamus began, looking up from the paper, "it's about what we expected." Harry scowled.

"How do _they_ know I'm going to Hogwarts?" he muttered petulantly. "No one asked me. Maybe I'll go to Beauxbatons instead," he sniffed and looked away. Seamus fought to hide his smile.

"You don't speak French," he reminded the other boy.

"I can learn," Harry replied, undaunted, "just to spite them. That will be our revenge." Seamus rolled his eyes.

"Sure it will," he said dismissively. "Anyway, what do you make of this Dumbledore character? We've read about him of course, hard not to, but I'd no idea that he was in charge of your placement." Harry frowned, turning back to the other boy.

"Do you think he was really friends with my parents? He obviously didn't do a very good job keeping track of me. Would my parents really put someone like that in charge of me?" The expression he wore was a mixture of hope and doubt.

"You were probably supposed to go with your godfather," Seamus tried to reassure him, "it wasn't until a couple days after they died that he…" Seamus trailed off, realizing his error.

"Turned into a mass murdering lunatic?" Harry finished with a weak smile. Seamus winced and Harry sighed. "I guess my parents weren't too concerned with what happened to me when they died."

"Well there _was_ a war going on," Seamus defended the Potters, "they were probably busy with other things. Or maybe they just couldn't imagine a scenario where they died and you lived." He shrugged.

"I guess we'll never know." Harry sighed and looked back at the paper.

"'There is little doubt that our young hero will be quite ahead of his classmates, perhaps even skip a year or two.'" He quoted it in a mocking voice and then snorted darkly. "What do they know? Anyone who's done just a little research would know that I couldn't have started learning magic until this year at the earliest." Seamus nodded in agreement.

"They're all morons," he declared, "Just ignore it. They'll meet you soon enough and realize that you're just a normal boy. Then they'll understand what idiots they've been all this time." Harry let out a puff of air.

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, "no one expects you to be some all-powerful mega wizard. You can just be a normal boy. But not me," he finished, disgusted, " _I'm_ Harry Potter."

There was the smack of a book hitting the floor, followed by the squeak of a little girl. The boys looked around, alarmed. They stood, ready to bolt, but were not fast enough to avoid the determined redhead rounding the corner ahead of them.

She was small, maybe a year or two younger than them, and wore a look of delighted awe, her bright brown eyes wide in anticipation.

"Is it true?" She squeaked hopefully, looking between the boys, "you're really Harry Potter?" Her eyes finally settled on Seamus.

"You know it's rude to eavesdrop," he avoided. The girl waved dismissively, eyeing the black hat covering his forehead.

"But you're him. Aren't you?" She was dancing on her toes in a way that reminded Harry strongly of Alexa. But this was not his friend; this was a stranger who could ruin anything.

"Of course he's not Harry Potter," Harry said with a scoff. "Don't be ridiculous." The girl turned to him.

"Are _you_ Harry Potter then?" Uh oh. That was worse.

" _No_ ," he declared, "Why would Harry Potter be in Diagon Alley. He's in _hiding_." He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but his voice rose near the end.

The redhead narrowed her eyes, examining Harry closely. Her eyes widened and she began reaching for Harry's hat. Seamus stepped in.

"Ok," he admitted with faux sheepishness, "you got me. I'm Harry Potter." Harry stared in surprise, but the little girl had already twirled back to Seamus, triumphant.

"I _knew_ it!" She cried, "Oh wait til I tell Ron…" She looked around, searching for someone and Seamus quickly shook his head.

"No!" He whispered fiercely. "Don't tell anyone!" The girl narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Look," Seamus began, "what's your name?"

"Ginny…" The girl said slowly, focusing once again on Seamus's covered forehead.

"Well Ginny. I'm here with my friend," he waved to Harry, "and we're trying to celebrate just like everyone else. If you tell people who I am, what do you think will happen?" Ginny's eyes widened.

"Well... I suppose they'd want to meet you…" Seamus nodded.

"That's right. We'd never get anything done if that happened. There'd be crowds of people wanting to shake my hand." Ginny nodded slowly. Her face fell.

"So… I can't tell Ron?" Seamus shook his head.

"Ginny, I'm trusting you to keep a secret just between us. No one needs to know that I'm here." Ginny nodded, determined. Then she paused.

"But… Can I see your scar?" She whispered that last part and Seamus shook his head with a small smile.

"I'm in disguise." He tapped his forehead in the spot where Harry's scar would be. Ginny sighed, dejected.

"Ok…" Seamus beamed.

"Great. You're a good friend, Ginny." Ginny brightened at the word friend. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too, Harry!" She smiled brightly at Seamus, and then turned to Harry politely. "And nice to meet you as well…" She paused expectantly.

"Er. Seamus Finnigan." Harry filled in, uncomfortable. Ginny smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Seamus." Harry nodded and forced a smile. Ginny turned back to Seamus and the other boy smiled at her.

"Thanks Ginny. Hopefully we'll see you again sometime. And until then…" He trailed off, putting a finger to his lips in a sign for silence. Ginny nodded.

"Bye!" She skipped off across the bookstore, a wide smile gracing her features.

Seamus turned back to Harry. The boys stared at each other for a minute, silent. Then Harry started laughing.

"That was brilliant!" he declared. "You had her completely convinced! And you got her not to tell anyone!" Seamus gave the other boy a small smile.

"You don't mind?" he asked cautiously, "You just looked panicked and I took over without really thinking about it." he rushed to explain. Harry waved him off, still grinning.

"Nah. You handled it like a pro. _You_ should've been the famous one. Then I could be Seamus Finnigan, the hero's average friend." he tilted his head dreamily.

"Hey!" Seamus was indignant. "I'm not average. I'll have you know I mastered my Lumos a full month before you did." He stuck up his nose arrogantly. The boys burst into another round of giggles.

"But yeah," Seamus admitted once they had recovered, "that was pretty brilliant." Harry nodded.

"If only we could get away with that at Hogwarts…" He trailed off wistfully and Seamus nodded. The boys were silent for a minute, lost in their daydreams. Then, slowly, their faces morphed from wistful, to thoughtful. They met each other's eyes, and a slow, mischievous smile crept up each of their faces.

* * *

At that very moment in northern Scotland, Albus Dumbledore was looking down at the _Daily Prophet_ article in front of him. _The Boy Who Vanished: The Impending Return of Harry Potter_. He sighed. He should have foreseen this. How typical of Cornelius to try to get the press on his side as soon as he made it into office. At least he had enough sense not to leak anything that would endanger Harry. It was all but common knowledge that Dumbledore was responsible for Harry's placement and there was no harm in the public knowing that he would be coming to Hogwarts. They might keep a sharper eye out for him in Diagon Alley, but from what Garrick Ollivander told him, the boy knew how to be discreet.

That turned Dumbledore's thoughts in a whole new direction. He had been caught off guard a few months back when he'd received that letter from Ollivander. Harry Potter had come to Diagon Alley a full year before he would go to Hogwarts and purchased Fawkes's other wand. The wand itself didn't surprise Dumbledore; that had been expected. Dumbledore would have been more surprised if Harry's wand wasn't the brother of Voldemort's. It was Harry's presence in Diagon Alley that had caused Dumbledore some concern. None of Arabella's correspondence over the years had ever indicated that Harry was even aware of magic. Her letters were all vague, as he had instructed. Just simple observations such as, "the neighbors vacationed in Majorca last summer," or, "that neighbor boy and his friends are quite the rascals." Not a hint about magic.

Of course, Dumbledore had hoped Harry's aunt would tell him about their world. He'd asked her to, when the time was right. Apparently that time had come. And when he thought about it, it made sense that Arabella was unaware of Harry's magical knowledge. The Dursleys had no way of knowing that she was a squib and they would hardly advertise Harry's wizard status. Dumbledore was just relieved that Harry had taken precautions when he'd gone to get his wand. Other than Ollivander, there had been no Harry Potter sightings in the Alley. The makeup to cover his scar was simple, but ingenious. Dumbledore smiled, satisfied. Yes, the boy was quite clever. It would do him well in the years to come.

* * *

At McAllister's Orphanage that night, Harry and Seamus huddled in their fort, discussing the finer points of their plan. To switch places entirely would take some serious dedication and foresight. If they did this, they wouldn't be able to switch back until after Hogwarts at least. Was a prank really worth all that work? They thought so.

"It's perfect," Harry giddily declared, bouncing up and down on the bed, "this is exactly what we've been looking for. It's subtle and harmless at the end of the day, but when we do tell them the truth there'll be Hell to pay." Seamus, too, was grinning like a madman. Harry would have been a little frightened if he weren't so darn excited.

"Imagine their faces." Seamus was on cloud nine, gazing dreamily into the distance. "They'll spend seven years watching _me_ and writing articles about _me_ , only to discover that the real Harry Potter slipped right through their fingers!" Harry grinned.

"Plus we'll get a good laugh at their expense every time they call us by each other's names." he added. Seamus paused to consider that.

"Maybe we should come up with nicknames? So we don't get confused, I mean. Otherwise we're bound to slip up and reply to our real names at some point." Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"We'll have to do something about our appearances too. Everyone knows my eyes are green, and anyone that knew my father well enough will recognize that I'm his son." He pulled out his copy of _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and flipped to the picture of his family. Seamus eyed it speculatively.

"Well, you'll definitely have to keep gelling your hair. Maybe dye it too, to be safe. Nothing crazy," he assured the other boy at his alarmed look, "maybe just a lighter brown, like a sandy color?" He looked back down at the picture. "We can think about it. And I could get fake glasses to throw people off. Big round ones like your dad's. Might make me look more like him and draw attention away from you." Harry nodded slowly.

"And for the eyes, my optometrist has color contacts. He might think it's a little weird, but Dr. Roberts is cool. He'll get me some blue ones if I ask." Seamus smiled, his excitement building back up.

"I can go to a different eye doctor and look for green ones. I'll say they're for a costume or something. We should stick to the muggle world though; it'll be too suspicious if we're seen buying color contacts in Diagon Alley." Harry couldn't argue with that.

"And then there's the scar." he reminded Seamus. "I can cover mine easy enough, but it'll be tricky giving you a fake one." Seamus traced his forehead.

"Madam Marvel's?" He thought aloud, "her stuff lasts forever, and I bet she could make a fake scar, she's a genius. We could tell her it's for a costume. Or to scare our fake sister. She loved us last time we were there." Harry snickered at that.

"Ok." He agreed. "We have a lot of time to think about it, we don't need to switch until summer really. I bet we'll come up with loads of ideas before then." Seamus nodded, but grew serious once more.

"And you're sure that you want to do this? You'll be giving up your fame," at Harry's scoff he continued, "and there will be people out there who knew your parents. If they have stories or want to reconnect they'll come to me instead of you. You have to be ok with that." Harry looked Seamus dead in the eyes.

"I never wanted my fame. All I want is to be normal. And any friends of my parents had nine years to come tell me about them. They made their choice." Harry paused, suddenly unsure.

"And you? You have family. I know you don't talk to them, but they're out there." Seamus scoffed, and then echoed Harry's words.

"They had three years after my mum died to make amends. They made their choice. You're my family now." Harry gave the other boy a soft smile.

"And you're mine."


End file.
